Monday, April 30, 2012

Here are some photos I took when I went to Candy Belle vintage fair at the Caledonian Thistle Hotel on Saturday. If they look wonky and queasy, that is because 2pm the day after Friday night is not sha-boy, regardant time of day. But neither me nor my equally woozy companion spewed, so, I'm counting that one as a win.

dreadful photo taken on my quite-literally-held-together-with-gaffer-tape camera, of the rad blouse (PAT BUTCHERFOREVER) and vaguely pointless bag i managed to obtain in my hazy state

Also, giant confession. I've been gymming. Ewww. AND, it turns out that it's in fact much more satisfying to spend your Sundays sweating in a room full of vain beautiful men with abs like Jesus than it is to spend it lying in bed watching Daria and eating onion rings. WHO KNEW?

Sunday, April 22, 2012

So, the million dollar (or, you know, maybe like £3.20) question. What do you do to fill the endless, yawning days of your ever-waning youth if you happen to be an easily-bored, jobless slacker with only 6 hours of university per week? Go on impromptu trips to weird little nearby Scottish towns is ofc the answer. Most adventure days we end up by the sea (durrrr), but this time flailed off to Inverurie to get lost, dance around the stone circle and drink cider in old man pubs.

I also bought a dress - I am as-yet unsure whether it is fun in a Reality Bites-era-Janeane, Beetlejuice-era-Geena type way, or just a sad and irrefutable example of how I spend way too much time on the stupid internet and think in my reptilian brain that anything kitschily 90s is automatically cool;

I feel I may have just discovered the answer to that one. But DAMMIT if I'm not excited to cut a metre off the length and wear it anyway.

Thursday, April 19, 2012

Being short and breasty is good for some things. For example, my flatmate insists it is an evolutionarily-gained way to obtain free drinks (due to easy eye access to the twins, SCIENCE). BUT, it also means that I will never look good in menswear, no matter how Amazonian and Tilda Swinton/Grace Jones-tastic I am within the dark, safe confines of my own brain. Life is unfair.

Sunday, April 15, 2012

So I'm back in Scotland now, resting up in bed with a tragic case of the sniffles, watching everything on BBC iPlayer and 4od (Whyyy Made in Chelsea and 90210, why do I always fall back on you even though I hate you and all you stand for). But before I left London I had one last Lewisham charity shop jaunt with BFF where I bought the BEST piece of artwork £2 has ever achieved;

To hang above my mantelpiece when I finally turn into the Log Lady, obviously

Also paid a trip to the amazing little scrappy record shop at the end of the road, which is like falling into a book by Nick Hornby.

BFF sampling the merchandise

and got some extremely brilliant, kitsch-as-fuck 70s paperbacks which I am going to devour when my exams are over and I can read trashy, non-essential literature.

If only I'd brought them with me to get through while I feel sorry for myself popping antibiotics, drinking litres of tea and eating whole Lindt chocolate bunnies in bed.

Monday, April 2, 2012

Continuing my Easter adventures with Lo, we visited the Horniman Museum to go and chat to all the starfish and dead butterflies and eat museum cake. It was the best.

inside sunglasses knobhead

uncanny heron

Call me a weirdo, but I do love taxidermy. I think I'd genuinely be fine with being stuffed and used as a hat rack after I die. Also, don't you think the displays and fonts they've used are quite Wes Anderson-ish?